


Blinded by the Lights

by ver_ironica



Series: Bringing Me to You [2]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Asra taking care of the apprentice, F/M, Fan Apprentice Wren, Fluff and Angst, Pre-Canon, The Arcana (Visual Novel) Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:27:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27239542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ver_ironica/pseuds/ver_ironica
Summary: Wren has been working her way to being a person again, but feels like she's being left behind by Asra. He does his best to distract her, but she can't keep bottling up her frustration forever.
Relationships: Apprentice/Asra (The Arcana)
Series: Bringing Me to You [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1953253
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	Blinded by the Lights

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! There has to have been a lot of angst in the first few months, right? And feelings Asra can't handle so he just redirects or leaves. Also, it's canon that Asra held the apprentice's hand when they first walked outside and I just couldn't get that out of my head!

The box of tea fell out of her clumsy grip, scattering teabags across the kitchen floor. Wren stomped her foot in frustration.

She tried to breathe, remembering Asra's first lesson, but found herself unreasonably angry, and trying to calm herself only added to her anger. With heated resignation, she grabbed the tea from the floor, and stuffed it back into the little box. 

Anger and frustration were more constant companions to her these days it seemed than Asra was. She was still too weak, her headaches still too frequent, for her to really be able to go outside by herself. Asra had murmured soft apologies to her a few mornings ago as he woke her from sleep to tell her he would be leaving for some time. 

"Faust will be with you. Tell her if you need me, and I'll make my way back to you, alright? But I know you can do this, you're getting so strong," he had told her.

 _I'm not, though_ , she had thought. She'd blearily tried to protest, "But, I don't--I feel like I don't see you as much anymore."

Asra had looked at her with an anguished grimace. "I know, I'm sorry, but there are things I have to take care of outside of the shop. Someday, I'll bring you with me."

"Promise?" Wren had demanded. 

"I promise, my heart," he had said. 

She would just have to hold him to his word. She took a deep breath, held it, and tried to visualize letting her anger wash away from her as she added water to the kettle. 

"Mr. Fire Salamander," she said politely, "could I please have some fire for tea?" 

The salamander in the stove gave her a look, licked one of his bulbous eyes, and then breathed his steady stream of blue-hot fire. 

"Thank you," she said. "I'm sorry you saw me get upset earlier. It's not at you, or Faust."

The salamander pointedly ignored her as he heated the kettle. She sighed, looking away dejectedly. Before she could sink further into a low mood, she felt a smooth pressure against her leg. 

_Squeeze!_ Faust said in her mind as she twisted herself around Wren. 

"Hi, Faust," she said. "Do you know when Asra will be home? It's been three days. I'm not trying to worry, I just..." She trailed off, words escaping her. 

_Miss him,_ Faust agreed. 

The kettle began to sing, and she took it off the fire, thanking the salamander once more. With a deep sigh, she decided to make two cups of tea, one with a spoonful of honey for herself, and one with a sprinkling of cinnamon the way Asra liked. Maybe that would make him come home sooner. 

"I can't tell if I'm angry at him for leaving, sad that he's gone, or just frustrated that I'm still too sick to go outside," Wren mused aloud to Faust. "Every day I learn more, I feel more, and it just leaves me even more confused." 

_Friend,_ Faust thought to her sympathetically. Wren felt a surge of love for her snake friend, and reached down to give her a little pat on her smooth head. 

She misjudged the movement, and accidentally pushed down a little too forcefully. "Ah! I'm sorry, Faust," she said quickly. She still lacked in grace and coordination, her fingers constantly feeling clumsy. 

Faust's head bobbed in a nod of understanding. 

Wren grabbed her of tea and relished the comforting warmth of the cup. She carefully tread over to their tiny kitchen table, slowly setting the cup on a woven macrame coaster, before settling in to a chair. The window by the table was open to let in the gentle early autumn air and orange afternoon sunlight. It was almost peaceful. 

Wren peered at the coaster for a moment, studying the swirl of the cord and how it wove together. She ran a finger over one of the ridges.

Without warning, her head split open with pain. 

_I made that,_ she remembered. She tried to stop herself as the pain grew, but she couldn't help the snatch of memory that appeared to her, the feel of cotton twine in her fingers as she wove the coaster on some lovely autumn day, much like this one, in the past. 

Just this tiny snapshot of a memory had her nauseous with pain. She tried to breathe, and make her mind turn to the present. The smell of the tea, the warmth of the cup, the ache in her feet from being on them all day. 

Frustrated tears stung her eyes. "I _hate_ this," she spat, just to get the feeling out. Hated that she had no say in what triggered the pain, hated that the tiniest things from her past were keeping her from living life fully in the present. 

Slowly, slowly, the headache receded. She still felt shaky, fragile, like she might come apart with a strong breeze. Trembling, she took a sip from her teacup, still hot, trying to enjoy the sweetness of the honey. 

The door chimes from downstairs rang suddenly, startling her. She quickly scrubbed at her face, trying to hide the traces of her tears. She didn't want Asra to know that she'd had another headache. 

And then her heart soared. _Asra_. She set down her cup and hurried over to the top of the stairs, though her legs still weren't strong enough for her to run easily down to the shop floor. She peered down the staircase. "Asra?" she called, her voice thin. 

Finally, she saw his curly white hair, his handsome features, his body swathed in his colorful traveling clothes as he rounded the corner and looked up at her. His expression was so full of delight and relief and _happiness_ when he looked at her, it made her feel like the most precious person in the world. 

"Wren!" he answered, and rushed up the stairs to meet her, pulling her into a tight embrace. "Oh, Wren, my heart, I missed you so much." 

The earnest way he said her name brought tears to her eyes as she was nearly swept off her feet by the force of his hug. She tried to set aside her hurt feelings as she breathed in his familiar smells, herbal and warm, and felt the sturdy safety of his body pressed to hers. 

"I missed you, too, Asra," she murmured into his shoulder. "I actually just made a cup of tea with cinnamon for you, if you want it."

He pulled back and looked at her with eyes sparkling. "How'd you know I'd be back tonight?" 

She just smiled faintly, and shrugged, not wanting to say that she'd made tea for him each day he'd been gone. She didn't want to sour the mood of his return now. 

Asra docked off his coat on the rack and his hat, grabbed his teacup and plopped down heavily at the kitchen table, sighing with weary relief. She sat back in her chair, pointedly not looking at the macrame coasters on the table. 

"This tea is wonderful, just like I like it, thank you, Wren. How was your head?" Asra asked after a few sips. "Any pain?"

"Once or twice," she lied. She'd actually had five headaches, including the one just a few moments ago. 

He looked at her, searching her face. Her heart sank when she realized he didn't believe her, but he didn't press it. "I'm glad to hear it," he said softly. 

She downed the rest of her tea, the weight of her unsaid feelings starting to get to her. "I--can I say something difficult?" 

Asra nodded, already grimacing. 

Wren took a breath to steady herself. "I don't know how to say it. But I am... upset that you keep leaving. And I am so frustrated that I'm still--I still can't go outside."

Asra looked pained, opening and closing his mouth a few times without saying anything. 

"I can tell you don't mean to hurt me," Wren said softly. "But it does." 

He winced and withdrew into himself. He was silent for several moments, barely moving, not even to sip his tea. But then he sighed. "There's so much I can't say that I want to say," he whispered. He couldn't meet her eyes. "Sometimes, I'm so full of feelings and thoughts and desires that I just have to leave, or I will act on them."

Her head began to ache suddenly at his words, but she did everything in her power to not let him see. She clutched the edge of the table, white-knuckled, and resisted the urge to curl up on the floor with her hands on her temples. 

"I promise, I'll talk more about this with you later," Asra said, and bit his lip with guilt, "when I can find the right words. Right now... I would really like to have a nice evening with you now that I'm back. Is that alright?"

She couldn't say no, of course. Especially not when he looked exhausted and pitiful. She nodded. He seemed to deflate slightly, his easy happiness from earlier replaced with tension. Her headache faded to a dull pulse. 

"Does the fire salamander talk?" Wren asked, genuinely curious but also trying to change the subject. "Like Faust?"

Asra gave a surprised laugh. "Faust already talks more than she should," he said, shooting the snake a mischievous look. "But no, the fire salamander doesn't talk."

Wren gave a sad sigh, leaning her chin on her fist. "No wonder he didn't answer me."

"I'm sure he is a good listener?" Asra tried to comfort her with a teasing smile. He gave her a considering look. "I have an idea."

"What?" she asked. 

He raised an eyebrow at her and smiled cheekily. "How about tomorrow, we make a trip outside?"

Despite her reservations, her spirits rose considerably. "Really? Could we?"

"We'll have to do it carefully," Asra amended. "But I think I know a place we could go that wouldn't give you headaches. If you're alright with it, will you let me lead you out of the city into the woods north of us?"

"Not the marketplace?" she pouted, looking out the window at the colorful awnings and tarps and bustle of moving figures. 

Asra bit his lip. "I think there's still... a lot there that could trigger pain for you. Let's wait a little longer for the marketplace. People can be overwhelming." 

Wren rolled her eyes. "If other people are like you, I don't know how anyone manages to go outside." She paused for a moment before she grinned.

"Oh, Wren, are you teasing me?" Asra asked playfully. He gave a light laugh. "That's how I can tell you're getting better." 

She didn't want to push and have a headache, but she loved the idea that she had teased him before, and that that was a way he remembered her fondly. It made her feel a bittersweet connection between who she was now and who she may have been just a few months before. 

***

The next morning Wren rose with the sun, pale light filtering through their thin curtains casting a creamy glow in their rooms. Asra was up and about but Wren could see he was still drowsy with sleep. He had water heating for tea. She also spotted a neatly wrapped loaf on the counter, still steaming, that promised a delicious pumpkin bread for breakfast. 

She took a deep breath as she stood, bracing for the usual dizziness she felt when she stood from sleep. She let out a delighted laugh when she didn't feel anything. Asra noticed and gave her an encouraging smile and an eyebrow raise. 

"Good morning, my heart," he said. "Looks like today will be a good day for adventuring."

She made her way confidently to the kitchen, but accidentally bumped her hip on the kitchen table. Coordination was still a bit of a challenge to her. She felt her face flush, but Asra only chuckled sympathetically. 

"Maybe we should move the table?" he said. "I hit it almost every morning." 

She doubted it, but was comforted nonetheless. She took her seat and watched Asra come more to life as he poured their drinks and sliced into their pumpkin bread breakfast. The warmth of it shook out the last of sleep and the cold from her, exhilarating her. She was so excited she was nearly bobbing back and forth in her seat. 

Sometimes she worried that she was so much...rougher than Asra. Everything he did, he did with grace and ease. He moved like water. She tried to mimic him as much as she could, but she felt like she had rocks for limbs. 

She wasn't sure why she should feel embarrassed. Asra never once made her uncomfortable or judged her for her pace at healing. In the first weeks after she had woken up, she had been completely helpless. Asra had to help her with everything, show her how to clean and relieve herself, teach her to speak and read. She could hardly move, even her arms, her entire body was weak and ached. And between all the helping and caretaking, she would have horrible headaches that would make her lose herself for hours at a time, and would happen without warning. But even though he had seen her like that and never once judged, she still felt like she was… off. Not normal, not like Asra. 

Even now as she rocked side to side with excitement, she realized Asra wasn't doing the same thing, and she forced herself to still.

Asra gave her a look. "What's wrong?" 

"Nothing," she said quickly, looking away. She felt stupid. 

He searched her face for a moment. Then to her utter surprise, he mimicked her earlier motions and gave a little rock, bobbing his head side to side in his seat too. She gave him a shy smile, and he nodded, wordlessly encouraging her. 

"Is that all?" he said gently. She gave a sheepish nod. "My heart, you and I are not the same. Please don't feel like you have to follow my lead in all things. I'm your master for the arcane and that's all. I'm your friend for everything else. Our body languages are our own." 

"Body...language?" she asked, trying out the word, which was new and quite long. 

"Right, like the way we speak with our mouths is a language, we're speaking the Vesuvian common language," he explained. "But people, our bodies, have a language of our own, and it’s rough and unique."

"Are my hand signs body language too?" she asked, and made the sign for thirsty, then tired, then laugh to explain her point. 

He signed _laugh_ back to her. "Kind of. Really they are just pieces of a formal language. I taught you those because they are easier than speaking, and came to you more naturally when you first woke up. You used to know--" he cut himself off, nearly biting off his tongue to stop talking. 

She felt like a wall was suddenly between the two of them. Asra gave her another slice of bread without speaking, and then stood to go put on his shawl and get ready for leaving. She knew he meant that she shouldn't press, shouldn't ask anymore, but she had been enjoying learning about language. Maybe it was something she had liked to learn about before, too. 

She stood then, and made her way to him. He was trying to pull back to himself, to not tell her too much. He kept his gaze averted as she approached, fidgeting with his shawl on his shoulders. 

She reached up and took his hands. He swallowed and looked at her. 

She gave them a gentle squeeze. "Is this body language?" she asked quietly. 

He nodded. 

She slowly embraced him, using her hold on his hands to guide them around her, and then she reached out to hold him in her arms. With a sigh, he relaxed into her hold. 

"Can we go outside now?" she asked into his shoulder.

He pulled back from her and gave her a watery smile. "Yes."

Wren gave his hands one last squeeze, and then went over to her little dresser by their bed to pull on some more layers for the autumn chill. She had to ask Asra to help her lace her black boots, she had only worn them once or twice. She took a few tentative steps to adjust to them, and was relieved to find it much easier than the last time. 

Asra grabbed a soft gray piece of cloth. He held it out for her to see. She ran her hand over the gossamer fabric. "A headscarf," he said, "so you can hide a little from the noise and the sun and people. I hear it's very popular with the Countess herself." He gave her a little smirk.

She raised a skeptical eyebrow, but nodded to allow him to help wrap her head. He gently tucked up her hair into a twisted bun, and then wrapped the scarf around her, pinning it in place. Immediately, she felt a bit safer, and a bit more in control. She rubbed a hand on her chest in a circular motion, _thank you_. 

Asra pulled on his hat and grabbed his satchel, giving her an excited look, some of his earlier enthusiasm returning slowly after their jilted conversation. He let her go down the stairs on her own, which she was grateful for, even if she was still a little wobbly. She breathed in the smells of herbs and incense concentrated to the shop. 

“While we’re in town, can you please hold my hand?” Asra asked her. “I don’t want you to get lost.”

She was about to scoff and tell him no. But at that moment the door opened, and the hugeness of the city dwarfed her, and she nodded, grabbing onto his hand like a lifeline. 

They took their first few steps out onto the street, and Wren realized fear had filled her now instead of excitement. People moved along the streets of Vesuvia at different paces, all with a sense of purpose and ease. The sounds were echoed, bouncing off the walls of buildings and the cobblestone beneath their feet. The sounds of the ocean nearby, the people’s voices, and their footsteps, all creating a song that Wren could barely process. 

“It’s a lot, isn’t it?” Asra asked her quietly. “Are you sure you want to go today? We don’t have to.”

She considered for a moment. But as she took it in, it became a little more manageable. And she felt no pain, only a strange mixture of apprehension as well as wonder as she took in the city’s music. She looked at him and shook her head. “I want to keep going. But thank you.” 

He smiled. Slowly, they made their way what Wren assumed was north. “I like to leave on trips sometimes to get away from the city. It can overwhelm me.” 

“What’s it like outside the city?” she asked. 

“It’s very open,” Asra sighed, looking up at the sky. “Here, there’s towers and the palace blocking the sky. Outside the city it’s just you and the sun and stars.” 

The sky was too bright for her eyes still, so she didn’t mind the safety of the buildings for now. She tugged her headscarf a little further down over her eyes. She sneaked a glance at some of the faces of people bustling by. 

She saw one woman give a double-take in their direction, eyes narrow at Wren, before she turned and fled in the opposite direction. Wren felt like that was odd. She saw another man look at her with open confusion and worry, looking between her and Asra with horror. A couple of other folks blinked at her with astonishment. None greeted her or seemed to know her, but several people knew _something_ about her. 

Asra’s grip on her hand tightened slightly. “People are a bit…weary of new faces, I think,” Asra said reassuringly. “It’s just been me in the shop for so long while you’ve healed. I think people are nosy.”

“Nosy?” Wren asked. That didn’t seem to explain the expressions in their eyes when they saw her. 

Asra hummed an affirming noise, but his pace quickened slightly. As they walked further from the neighborhood of the shop, the weird looks subsided. Wren still felt more comfortable looking down at the ground for the most part. 

Finally, the city gave way to suburb and fields, and Wren saw the expanse of the forest loom ahead. They made their way into the foliage, and Wren looked in awe at the way the sunlight filtered through the leaves. She squeezed Asra’s hand. 

“It’s pretty, right?” he asked her. 

She nodded as they made their way further in. She stumbled over roots and rocks, but Asra was quick to help right her. 

“Do you still have enough energy to keep going?” 

She found herself panting slightly. But the exertion felt nice, like a really good stretch for her muscles. “I’m good,” she said. “Let’s keep going. Where are we headed anyway?”

Asra gave her a coy smile. “You’ll see.”

They walked together a few more moments. The forest grew denser, the trees larger and covered in moss and critters. Sun dappled onto the ground, casting rays through the canopy. She nearly felt like crying, she realized. It was so beautiful. 

The forest opened up into a small clearing. There were wildflowers and big dense bushes along the tree line. 

“Look, Wren,” Asra said excitedly. He pointed to the little blue fruit on the bushes. “Blueberries! You have to try these.”

They plucked a few each, and Wren bravely popped one into her mouth. She gasped. “It’s so sweet,” she hummed. 

“Let’s make sure to pick some for later on our way back,” he said. “But for now, come over here with me.”

He took her hand again and led her into the middle of the clearing. He sat on the ground, crossing his legs. She mimicked him, albeit far less gracefully. She tugged her headscarf from her head, her hair spilling out around her shoulders. 

“Today,” Asra said, eyes glinting, “we’re going to learn magic.”

Wren blinked. “I—you really think I’m ready… Master?” 

Asra’s smile seemed to tighten slightly. But he brushed it off and continued excitedly, “Yes, Wren, you are. More than ready. Your aura is so wonderful, it’s dazzling to look at it.”

She warmed at the praise. He dragged out a large spell book from his satchel, setting it open on his lap. He shuffled through a few pages, and then showed her a figure of a simple circle with pictures of flowers around it. 

“We’re going to do a simple tracking spell,” he said. “I want you to track forget-me-nots.” 

Wren raised an eyebrow, deadpan. 

Asra laughed. “Sorry, I didn’t pick their name! But look, there is a nice picture here, and I know there are a lot of them all over these woods.”

He explained to her then how to draw the symbol, and tracing the shape in the air led to a beautiful display of sparkling light, forming the circle in front of her face. She was surprised but delighted, like meeting an old friend as the magic flowed through her. 

“There, my heart,” Asra praised, “I knew you could do it. Now, what do you see?”

Wren blinked and realized the colors in the forest had muted somewhat. If she focused, she saw the shine of blue light, creating a trail for her to follow. 

She stood, looking back at Asra for approval. He gave her an encouraging nod. She turned and followed the magical trail, Asra several paces behind her, letting her lead and take control. 

She strained her eyes, hardly looking away from the blue path before her. Finally, she saw a little way off a cluster of small blue flowers, emitting the bright blue glow—the source of her spell. She was so intent on following, she didn’t notice a shadow fall in front of them. 

Suddenly, she felt herself collide with a wall. She looked up with a surprised gasp, realizing it wasn’t a wall, but a huge hulking person. She lost her balance and toppled backward onto the dirt with a yelp. 

“Asra,” she whispered, unable to even yell in her fear as the person glared down at her, easily several heads taller than herself. Tears welled in her eyes. 

“What is _she_ doing here?” the man said, his deep voice full of anger and disgust. 

Wren blinked, and the tears ran down her cheeks. The man averted his eyes from her, looking pointedly at Asra. 

Asra looked pained behind her. “Wren, this is Muriel,” Asra said. “He’s an old friend of mine. He won’t hurt you.” 

Muriel gave a gruff noise that seemed to imply otherwise.

Wren sniffled, still trying to calm her nerves. “He… knows me?” she asked tentatively. 

“No,” Muriel snapped. 

“Yes,” Asra said at the same time, earning another wary look from Muriel. 

Her head gave a twinge of pain, but she very carefully ignored any prompting of memory. She would just accept Asra’s word at face value. 

Asra finally turned to Muriel and said quickly, “I’m sorry, Muriel, we weren’t supposed to get close to your cottage. I felt like the forest would be the safest place for her.” 

“The forest is not safe,” Muriel grumbled. “Go do your magic somewhere else.” He turned away. 

Asra lunged out and grabbed one of his huge arms. “Muriel, please, don’t be like this,” Asra begged. “She doesn’t bite.” 

Wren blinked. Was Muriel… afraid of her? She carefully, slowly stood, trying to look, well, like she didn’t bite, like Asra said. She walked the last few steps to the cluster of forget-me-nots ahead of her, the blue magic of the spell fading now. She plucked them gently. She held them out to Muriel. 

A redness colored his cheeks then. He looked away from her, and the color darkened. 

“Oh no,” Wren gasped. Was he sick? “Asra, he’s red—what do we do?”

Asra gave a soft laugh. “No, he’s just blushing. People do it when they’re embarrassed or shy. Right, Muriel?”

Muriel grumbled something. Before Wren could say anything else, Muriel snatched the flowers out of her hand. Without another word, he lumbered back into the woods. 

***  
It was a long and quiet walk back to the shop. Wren didn’t feel like she had any more words left in her, and her legs and feet were weak and sore. She didn’t complain though—she had learned magic today. She felt like she’d done something else as well but couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was. 

Asra seemed a bit strained as well. His smile was tight, though it didn’t stop him from holding her hand, and then letting her lean her weight on him a bit as her legs threatened to give out on her. 

This was the furthest she’d walked since she woke up; the pain was a mark of progress. 

At home, the fire salamander heated the kettle, and Wren gratefully tugged off her boots, rubbing her swollen feet for a moment. She sighed contentedly. 

“I wish we could do this more often,” she sighed happily. 

But Asra made a grimace, and she realized what she’d implied. “I’m sorry I have to leave so often.” 

She tried to protest. “That’s not what I meant.” 

“No, but you’re right. I… I have to run away. There are things that I have trouble with, and… I’m sorry that I hurt you because of it,” Asra said. 

The kettle began to sing, and Asra nearly ran to make their cups. The sweetness of the honey in her tea didn’t stop her noticing the sour turn of the mood. They sipped in silence for several minutes. It was as if there was an invisible wall between them. 

Finally, she slammed her cup down onto the macrame coaster than had triggered her headache yesterday. Asra gave a startled jolt. 

“Asra!” she burst. “I don’t like that you get a say in what hurts me, and I don’t. I… I hate it!” 

She felt all of her frustration that she’d bottled up over the last few weeks break out of the dam inside her. She was learning by now that strong emotions caused tears to sting her eyes, and she tried to blink them stubbornly away. 

“I can’t depend on you like this anymore. I can’t live in this constant state of fearing the next headache. I-I’m going to the market!” 

She stood, determined, but found her legs too weak from the day’s journey, and she stumbled. In an instant, Asra was at her side and caught her before she fell. 

“Tomorrow,” she gasped out, shaking in his arms, “I’m going… tomorrow.” She sniffled, frustrated that tears refused to be stopped. 

Asra just looked at her, face full of pain, shattering her own heart into pieces. He didn’t say anything. He just helped carry her to bed. 

“Asra,” she protested, thick with tears, “stop helping me!” 

But he just steadfastly laid her down, and she found her body too heavy to object. He tucked her into the blankets, making sure the pillows were arranged how she liked. All in silence, his body language conveying his guilt and anguish and affection. 

“Asra,” she said, the fire going out of her. “Why can’t I be stronger?”

Asra just ran a thumb along her hairline, smoothing back the messy strands. His eyes were so beautiful. 

She watched as Asra silently grabbed his shawl and hat, tossed a few things into his satchel, and left down the stairs. She let out a sob as she heard the bells of the shop door chime; Asra was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Let me know what you think!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @ver-writes!


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